


Do It For Me Again / 27

by likeamadonna



Category: U2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeamadonna/pseuds/likeamadonna
Summary: Bono calls Edge with some important news. Then Edge watches Rattle & Hum and feels the need to give Bono a call. Two naughty little ficlets written and set in 2006.





	Do It For Me Again / 27

**Author's Note:**

> Resurrected by my beloved fouroux! I wrote each of these in one sitting back in 2006, a year that holds a special place in my heart. They were originally posted on Livejournal as two separate mini-stories, but like Bono and Edge, they were meant to be together. I used but reworked the general idea behind 27 SIGNIFICANTLY in Verse Two, which I wrote in 2015-16. Check out Chapter 3 if you're curious. I had never planned to post it, but MissEllaVation was curious about it. And spacemonkey had never heard of it. So. Friend service. 
> 
> What you're about to read are the transcripts of two phone calls with no other descriptions or "said Bono" etc. Do It For Me Again is pretty straightforward. The main challenge with the dialogue in 27 was to make Bono keep the (dirty) conversation going while in mixed company. I wanted his side of the call to sound like half of an ordinary, so-what conversation between two very close friends. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. It's just me being stupid. :D

**Do It For Me Again**

“Good morning! This is your 6:00 a.m. wake up call, Mr. The Edge.”

“What…? I didn’t ask for a—it’s 2:00 a.m. You’re way off. Bono.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry. You know how I am with time zones. And I am in Tanzania, and you’re in New Orleans. So.”

“You travel just as much as I do. More. You should know how to do the math by now, and incidentally it’s common courtesy to do the math before you make the call. Goodnight.”

“Edge! Just listen to me for five seconds and then I’ll let you go, okay? Are you sitting down?”

“What do you think, Bono?”

“Of course. You’re in bed. Well, that’s even better. Alright, brace yourself. I did something.”

“You do a lot of things.”

“Actually I’m shocked that you don’t know about it already. Haven’t you been following my tour? Haven’t you seen the wire photos of me lately? I’ve been keeping track of you, I hope you know. I’m looking at a picture of you right now. Devastatingly handsome as always. Should I be jealous of this Dave Matthews fellow?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been kind of busy down here lately. Remember that thing where we’re giving instruments to musicians? Lots of stuff is going on with that. Consequently, I am tired right now. I don’t have the time to troll the Internet looking for photos of you, and anyway I am perfectly aware of what you look like.”

“I love how you can be completely coherent even when you’ve been awakened from a sound sleep.”

“It’s an adaptation that goes hand in hand with knowing you, I’m afraid.”

“So you’re too busy to look at me, but I can somehow find the time to look at you, eh? Edge, I realize that I’m going straight to hell for what I’m about to say, but…New Orleans is merely a city, but Africa--”

“Why are you calling me?”

“Ahh, yes. I did something you’ve wanted me to do for…my goodness, what’s it been, ten years now? No, nine. That’s right. It’s been nine long years for my poor guitarist.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know I’ve wanted to do this too, I really have. But then the albums came out, and the tours, and I couldn’t change because I wouldn’t match the photos and the whole marketing campaign. That didn’t stop you from begging me every chance you got.”

“Bono. Tell me what you did in one simple sentence or I’m going back to sleep.”

“So bossy. Let me just say this first: ‘Do it for me. Do it for me again.’ Remember that? Well, you’ve got your wish. My hair is short now, Edge.”

“Uh…”

“…Ahh, stunned silence, my favorite. I can still hear you breathing, though.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes?”

“How short is it?”

“Remember when it was so short that you said it almost felt like sandpaper under your tongue?”

“Bono.”

“Hold on, don’t get too excited. It’s, I don’t know, it’s about an inch longer than that maybe? I mean, it’s not exactly what you love the most, but—mmm.”

“It’s...got possibilities.”

“Yes it does. I wish you could see me.”

“You are aware that many phones today have a built-in function that allows a person to take photos and send them, aren’t you?”

“Since when have you been all about instant gratification? Self-gratification, yes. Instant? That’s not really you. It’s more of a ‘me’ thing. Why don’t you just use your imagination?”

“Alright…mmm.”

“Awfully quiet over there all of a sudden.”

“I’m trying to concentrate.”

“On what?”

“Shut up, B.”

“Well, I think I look years younger now, and it’s so much easier, and I figured that since I’m in Africa I ought to simplify things. Christ, it’s hot here, Edge. Is it hot in New Orleans as well?”

“What was that?”

“...I see. So I just thought, Fuck it. Cut it off. The last thing I want to be dealing with right now is that damned long hair. And one doesn’t want to appear frivolous when meeting heads of state, does one? Or when one is spending his summer in Eze…working…working around the clock with his besieged guitarist. Yes, Eze.”

“Oh god.”

“Alright. I’ll admit that I was a little—a little!—self-conscious about it because, ehm, you know as well as I do that my hair is not the same as it once was.”

“Not important...”

“And there are a couple of places where, well, let’s face it, it’s thinning a bit, and I was slightly concerned that--”

“Please get back to--”

“You know, the photos? I’ve already seen a couple of pictures that made me sort of wince, but to hell with it. I’m getting older.”

“Bono. Please.”

“Oh, you want me to help you? Is that it? I’m sorry. Poor thing. Hmm. Okay, Edge. It’s so short, and it’s so soft…”

“Better.”

“I wish you were here so you could touch it. I mean, everybody else is. Ali can’t keep her hands off it.”

“Mmm.”

“And the children—yesterday this extraordinary little girl came up to me, and when I knelt to talk with her she patted my head, shrieked with delight, and spun around. I suppose she had never touched hair like mine before. These beautiful people here, Reg, these kings and queens…this entire continent—”

“Bono?”

“Sorry. Oh! Even Anderson Cooper felt the need to—”

“Stop it.”

“I know you have a little thing for—”

“Shut up.”

“I see the way you—”

“You bastard. I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay, Edge. I’m sorry. I lied. He’s not even here. Now just lie back and I’ll be good and talk you through it. What would you like to hear about?”

“Your neck.”

“What about my neck? Oh! My goodness, Edge. The back is almost completely exposed.”

“Yes.”

“It would be so easy for you to come up behind me and put your mouth back there now, your lips on my bare skin. How fucking divine would that be?”

“Mmm.”

“It almost makes me want to write some more lyrics. I swear, it's rather remarkable. They keep coming to me.”

“Say that again.”

“Oh. They keep coming to me. Lots of ideas. Yes, love, they keep coming.”

“Baby…”

“We’ll have so much material to work with in June. Tell me, Edge, what will we do once we are alone in Eze? I can’t wait to see your face. Wanna go down on you the first chance I get.”

“Please.”

“Sucking you—and as I’m doing that, where will your hands be?”

“Your hair.”

“Yes, those beautiful long fingers in my nice short hair.”

“Ahh.”

“Honestly, I can’t think of a better scenario than that, can you?”

“No.”

“As a matter of fact, I think I ought to keep my hair this way indefinitely.”

“Oh god.”

“Yes, you’re awfully close now, aren’t you?”

“Oh god, baby.”

“Frankly I doubt I’ll have the patience to grow it out again.”

“Ooh.”

“Might as well keep it simple. Might as well keep my lover happy. Very happy.”

“Ahh! Oh god, Bono, Bono yes--”

“Yes, that’s what I like to hear. I never get tired of hearing that, Edge.”

“…Mmm.”

“Was that good?”

“Yes…oh my god...trying to catch my breath.”

“You know, it’s been so long since I’ve heard people screaming my name—five months? Something like that. Too long.”

“I’m sure people will be doing exactly that later today.”

“They might be screaming my name, but I doubt this crowd will want me to fuck them.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Not as much as you do, anyway.”

“Well, you do have that exotic straight hair thing going for you—wait. You weren’t lying about having short hair now, were you?”

“Edge, I’m surprised."

"Surprised?"

"Yes, I’m surprised you’re not rampaging through Getty Images even as we speak.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I am. It’s just, I’m still recovering, and, well, it’s taking quite a while to load.”

“This is why I love you.”

“Here we are. Jesus. You actually did it. Wow, look at you.”

“Any conclusions, Reg?”

“Incredible. Dear god, I could eat you alive.”

“That can be arranged. Uh-oh. I have to go soon—meeting that Brian Williams person.”

“For your information, Brian Williams is completely in love with you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Reg.”

“Hmm. How about this? They’ve finally figured out a way to create ball lightning in a lab. In vitro ball lightning, you know?”

“You and your ball lightning. I’d say something pornographic if only you weren’t so adorable. Good night, Edge. Glad we had this talk.”

“Good morning, Bono.”

**27**

“Shut up Gavin, I love this ringtone! ...Hello?”

“Good morning, Bono.”

“Edge! Say good morning to The Edge, everybody…hahaha! ...Could you hear them, Reg?”

“Not really. And it’s night where I am.”

“Oh, of course. You’re in Los Angeles, that’s right. What’s going on?”

“I was just…thinking about you.”

“Is that so? …Edge?”

“Hi Bono.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be intoxicated, would you?”

“I suppose I might be marginally intoxicated.”

“Marginally.”

“Hardly at all, really.”

“Excellent.”

“Are you with a big group?”

“Oh, you know. Half a dozen friends, the usual suspects. Plus some hangers-on. We’re just eating breakfast, sitting around, enjoying this lovely weather.”

“So we can talk and they won’t mind.”

“Of course they won’t, Edge. This is hardly what I’d call a formal gathering.”

“But if they wanted to eavesdrop they could.”

“Well, I guess I am within earshot. I can take this inside if you’d like.”

“Ehm…no. No. Actually, I think I’d like it better if you stayed out there with everybody else.”

“Oh, you’d like it better, would you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, The Edge. It sounds like you have something to say. I’m listening.”

“I was thinking about you.”

“I know. How very nice for you.”

“Earlier today—you know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“Refresh my memory.”

“The screening? High definition? Remember?”

“Ahh, the _Rattle & Hum_ thing. Edge, as I recall, you were not required to be there. None of us were. I don’t know why you’d want to haul yourself halfway around the planet just so you could—”

“Bono. We’re talking about HD here. High. Definition. On the most incredible monitor I’ve ever seen. I just bought four. Or was it five?”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say five.”

“You’re probably right. Well, I thought at least one of us should take a look at the finished product before the rest of the world sees it.”

“Absolutely. Awfully responsible of you.”

“I’m afraid I walked into the screening room a little late, but no one seemed to mind. There were just a handful of technical types sitting in the dark watching it—with the sound off.”

“No sound?”

“I know! They said they turned it off during a couple of the songs, and it was very strange but after a while it started to make sense to me. The silence seemed to heighten the visual experience—no sound to distract—”

“Why John! That is the most glorious bumblebee drawing I have ever seen. It’s for me?…Thank you!…Okay, have fun… Sorry Edge. Wow, this is some kind of bumblebee.”

“No problem.”

“I think the kids are going to take a walk. Yeah. Alright. Please, continue.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the song in question was _Bad_.”

“Odd choice. Not much going on in that one. And you’ve always hated—”

“When it switches from regular speed to slow motion.”

“Right.”

“Throws off the entire song for me.”

“Me too, Edge.”

“Why did we let them do that in the first place?”

“The same reason we let them do a lot of things back then. What the hell did we know?”

“Yeah. Anyway, there you were in black and white—the star of this strange silent movie.”

“Right.”

“And you were looking down, your lips moving. No shirt, dripping wet. By the way, you’ve never given me a satisfactory answer to this: was it your idea to be shirtless, or did they tell you to do that? Because I think it was your idea.”

“Oh come on, what the hell did I know?”

“I’m guessing you knew plenty, Bono.”

“Possibly.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing. It was sex. And seeing you without sound underlined that idea for me. It was all there—your expressions, your gestures. Christ, even the way you breathed. It was sex.”

“Now wait. The song is about a lot of things, but it’s not about that. Not necessarily.”

“I especially liked it when you took off that sash or whatever it was.”

“Oh god. Well, that makes one of us. Remember Adam laughing his arse off and Larry punching me in the shoulder—repeatedly!—when we saw it for the first time? You were undoubtedly rolling your eyes.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You. Your theories about me are completely misguided, but do go on.”

“I watched you a lot when we played that song back then. I still do.”

“When you say you watched me a lot, that basically means you looked up two times instead of zero.”

“You may be right, but I made those two times count.”

“Oh really? So it was quality time, eh?”

“Yes, quality time. In any case, my part in that song is not exactly brain surgery. I can play it in my sleep.”

“It is in fact a criminally easy set of chords. Did I tell you that I taught Elijah how to play them last month?”

“You are such a liar.”

“Yes I am.”

“So I was looking at you there, stripped to the waist for whatever reason, and I realized that there’s a big difference between you and Adam.”

“The difference is in fact huge.”

“Very cute. No, when he takes his shirt off onstage, it looks, you know, natural. It somehow makes sense with who he is in general. But you seem more…naked. Vulnerable.”

“Hmm.”

“And therefore erotic.”

“Sometimes we see what we want to see, Edge.”

“When I looked at you on that monitor today, I wanted to see you having sex. Or maybe you had just finished and were starting a second round? That would explain why you were covered with sweat, hair in your face.”

“Tsk.”

“Looking down the entire time.”

“Looking down.”

“And what were you watching, Bono?”

“How about…you?”

“And what could I be doing?”

“You tell me.”

“Going down on you?”

“That sounds just about right.”

“Right. You stayed like that for what seemed like an entire minute. After a while you looked up—that profile of yours—out into the distance, and as you sang you kept pushing your hair out of your face, obviously preening.”

“Unintentional.”

“And that picture was so sharp. I felt like I was seeing you for the first time, except your body was made out of marble, this living white marble, especially the way the light hit your back and shoulders, you know?”

“I hope you realize I haven’t watched that thing in maybe a decade, so I can’t say I remember that particular part.”

“Of course you do. You love good cinematography. God, that was nearly twenty years ago.”

“Yes, it was.”

“And your face. You were such a baby. Such a serious little peacock.”

“Go on.”

“Then you walked right by me as if I were ‘the help’ or something. I had to laugh at that.”

“Ha! ‘The help.’”

“Pretty soon it went into slow motion and I couldn’t bring myself to watch that. Eventually it was over, and you finished your silent vocal near the end of the song. Christ if you didn’t look like you were having the orgasm of a lifetime while you were doing that.”

“If only.”

“And then you had the—yeah, you had the audacity to wrap your arms around Adam. A sort of postcoital draping.”

“Should have been you.”

“You disappeared into the background and let ‘the help’ finish your song.”

“You crack me up, Edge.”

“Seriously, Bono, as I sat there in that room, I really wanted to fuck you.”

“Describe.”

“I wanted to watch your face as I did it.”

“That’s very interesting.”

“But then I thought, what if you were on top?”

“Huh. Considering the fact that you’re the one interrupting my morning, I think we should go with that second option.”

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Obviously.”

“Do you think you can sit through it without, ehm, people knowing what we’re talking about?”

“Edge, I have acted in several major motion pictures.”

“Oh, you are something special.”

“Including the critically-acclaimed _Rattle & Hum_? Anyway, continue your story. Fascinating set up… What’s that, Gavin?…No, I’ve never heard Edge talk so much in my life, either!…He is ‘marginally intoxicated’ however. Sometimes becomes chatty…Hahaha—good one!…I’ll be sure and tell him… Sorry about that, Reg. Gavin says hello.”

“Hello, Gavin.”

“Edge says hello to you, Gavin! …Ha!…I completely agree… Haha. Okay. Okay, I’m back, Edge.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t think you’ll want to be interrupted anymore.”

“I can’t guarantee that won’t happen, of course.”

“But you will try to pay attention.”

“Yes. I’m sure I will remain riveted from here on out.”

“Alright. Well, by the time I got back here, and yes, I had one or two drinks, I had given this subject plenty of thought: you, 27 year-old you, your still-boyish face, your long hair.”

“Hold on! You can just stop right there, Edge. Okay. Certain recent changes have been made to suit your preferences. Are you saying you want things to go back to the way they were in the past?”

“Absolutely not. The mere thought of the way you look right now makes me hard.”

“Oh. Well, good. That’s completely understandable.”

“It’s just that—for the sake of the story—I can’t quite picture you at that age looking any other way. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Just making sure.”

“Anyway, it’s really pretty standard. I’m in bed, you know, present day, and this young version of you materializes.”

“As I am wont to do.”

“Also, you are in black and white. Everything else is in color.”

“Of course. Because that makes sense.”

“We look at each other for a few seconds, and without a word you take off your shirt, whatever shirt you’re wearing, it doesn’t matter.”

“I appreciate details, Reg.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t have them yet. You know how these kinds of things are. When a fantasy is brand new, like this one, the basic plot alone is almost too much to take.”

“You can achieve the desired outcome very quickly, almost too quickly, yes?”

“Exactly. But with repeated, uh, viewings?”

“You become desensitized to it over time. That's not the right word but you know what I mean.”

“And that’s when you can add details.”

“Right, I see.”

“So. Then you do that little number with the sash.”

“Oh! I have something to contribute. I have plans for that item, Edge.”

“Such as?”

“Ehm. Well, first of all, I have the feeling that you’re going to get tied up over there.”

“Ahh, so you’re going to tie my wrists. Would that be right?”

“That kind of thing is bound to happen. But continue.”

“Yes. So I’m lying on my stomach, watching you strip for me, and now apparently my hands are going to be tied. Behind my back?”

“You’re clearly getting in over your head, Edge.”

“I see. By the way, your hair is back in one of those tight little ponytails. I always thought that was an underrated look for you.”

“Again: this kind of information might have been useful a few weeks ago, but not anymore.”

“You know my feelings on the subject. Moving on, you take off those awful suspenders and trousers—”

“Fucking Lola.”

“—and anything else. Boots? Probably. Doesn’t matter.”

“They were only going to get in the way.”

“And I should add that there is a large mirror beside the bed. It’s just miraculously there.”

“How novel. Don’t you love how convenient that is?”

“Are you hard, B?”

“Now?”

“Yes, real life, right now.”

“I don’t think this could possibly be any harder.”

“Oh dear. I hope you have a newspaper or something like that.”

“Yes. You bastard.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“I suppose this is payback for last weekend or whenever it was.”

“Calling me in the middle of the night, making me your sexual phone hostage.”

“That’s my favorite Marvin Gaye song.”

“Wanna sing it for me?”

“I’d love to, but sorry. Tell me, Reg, this story of yours: is there a point to it, or does it simply meander?”

“The point is—and I want you to listen to this closely because I plan to spend the next minute or so—”

“Driving the point home repeatedly?”

“Careful, B.”

“Heh.”

“Settle down. Where were we? Okay. You come over to my bed, and you grab both of my wrists and tie them together with an earnest little expression on your face, maybe the slightest hint of a smirk, right? And then without a whole lot of ceremony—isn't it great how you can do this in fantasies, no preliminaries?—you’re on top and you’re fucking me, and I’m able to watch you in the mirror—”

“Fuck. I’m gonna take this inside, everybody. Can barely hear him in this breeze.”

“I win.”

“God damn it, Edge!”

“Keep walking.”

“You are a creature of pure evil, you know that?”

“Second floor guest bathroom?”

“Fucking mind reader.”

“Lock the door, Bono, and do try to be quiet.”

“Ahhh.”

“That’s a good boy. Whisper.”

“Are you sure you can handle a 27 year-old fucking you, Edge?”

“Yes.”

“Because I will fuck you so hard.”

“Yes, you will.”

“As you watch.”

“You’re watching too.”

“Oh god…”

“And the thing is, B, as you fuck me?”

“Yes?”

“As you’re bucking against me, holding me down, tossing your head back and doing all those other things you like—”

“Biting your shoulder—just fucking having my way with you—”

“Yes, as you’re doing this—”

“So hot that I’m on top.”

“And I’m so much older too, aren’t I? Wiser, more sophisticated…”

“A goddamn fucking genius.”

“And you’re merely a boy, and yet…”

“You’re letting me.”

“I’m not letting you. You’re simply taking what you want, and I am quite helpless to stop you. Not that I’m not enjoying everything about it.”

“Oh god Edge.”

“And you love how passive I am when I’m beneath you, and you love that I’m studying you even as you fuck me.”

“Yes.”

“And little by little, your hair comes out of its ponytail.”

“Because I’m fucking you so hard.”

“Yes, one piece at a time until it’s all free, hanging in front of your eyes, sticking to your perfect face…”

“Baby…fucking you…oh god yes…ohh…Edge…”

“And that’s what I saw on that screen today. You fucking me.”

“Ahhhh… Fuck…”

“That’s right.”

“…Oh my god I needed that.”

“I highly doubt that, but you’re welcome all the same.”

“Wanna suck you, Edge.”

“I know you do.”

“First chance I get. Yeah.”

“Make sure that you do. See, I mean, it’s not the most creative fantasy in the world. At this point it’s almost embarrassingly simplistic, but…”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Edge.”

“I’m very hard on myself, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll just bet that you are. No, I like it a lot. Especially that part about me fucking you. That’s what makes this one a classic. Genius, even.”

“I think it has potential, yes. I just felt like I should tell you about it.”

“Well, then. I’m glad you did. Feel free to report any future revelations, alright?”

“Of course.”

“Good night, Edge.”

“Good morning, Bono.”


End file.
